


A Step Between Dreams

by Madin456



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Family, Hunter Exam (Hunter X Hunter), HxHBB18, M/M, Pre-Canon, Tanabata, leads into canon events, zoldyck style torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 20:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15127580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madin456/pseuds/Madin456
Summary: On Whale Island: Gon chases a boy through the trees. They jump from branch to branch and he catches a glimpse of white hair before he blinks and then—nothing.On Kukuro Mountain: A boy who stepped out of Killua’s dreams. He has brown eyes, green clothing, and is very, very real.(“I know you,” Killua whispers to the dark, to the emptiness, to the universe and anyone who is willing to listen, and feels the truth of his words skin deep, bone deep, heart deep.)





	A Step Between Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the hxh bigbang 2018!

The white-haired boy hangs from the ceiling, arms chained up, barely holding on to consciousness. In the darkness of the Isolation Dungeon, Killua’s brain registers the stench of his own sweat, the bitter taste of his now-dry tears, and further away, in the faint distance: pain.

Excruciating pain.

He can feel Illumi’s dull eyes watching his every reaction as the cold whip makes contact with his bare skin. It’s been hours into this game of torture and Killua has long since lost the ability to cry out after each snap of leather, too physically worn out to do anything other than think: _it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts._  

Flames dance up his body and blood trickles out from the cuts and through the pounding in his head, he wonders if he’s still alive. Wonders _how_ he can still be breathing even after all this time. He feels himself blacking out when speckles of light flash in his vision, merging together until Illumi and the floor and the dungeon itself begins to disappear. The blinding light draws closer and closer, swallowing Killua whole, and then—all he sees is: green.  
  
.

Somehow, Killua knows that he isn’t dead. If Heaven were to exist, though, he’s sure that this would be it. 

Out in front of him: a landscape so beautiful it has to be a dream. The scenery opens up to him with clear skies and crisp grass beneath his bare feet. He squints at the vast space ahead, golden rays of sunlight stroking gently on lavender flower petals and bamboo-brown logs. Castles in the shape of trees span long distances in all directions, housing a variety of wild animals, some of which Killua’s never seen before.

To his right is a moss-veiled trail leading deeper inland. To his left, there is an ocean of blue-green waters freckled with white light shining through the surface.

An island, he realizes. He’s on an island.

A rustling sound diverts his attention back to the forest just in time to see a shadow passing through the trees. Curious and eager to explore this new land, Killua races after the figure. He bends down and jumps onto a nearby tree branch with ease before pushing off, navigating through the woods of green one branch at a time.

Eyes sharp and just a few cautious steps behind, he tracks the boy in front of him, who moves through the terrain with a _hop hop hop_. There’s a sudden overwhelming urge that builds up inside of him to call out to the stranger.

“H-hey—!”

He’s cut off as a creature, squirrel-like in appearance, leaps out from the plants beside him and causes him to lose his footing for a frightening second. He slips from the branch, falling, falling, but never hitting the ground.

Instead, he finds himself back at the Zoldyck mansion, fantasy world left behind.   
  
.

On the other side of the world at that very moment, on an island shaped like a whale, Gon Freecss stops atop a tree branch to turn around at the sound of ruffling leaves and catches a glimpse of white hair.

He blinks, and then: nothing.

.

When Killua wakes up, he’s back in his room, a pair of dark brown eyes looking down at him.

It takes all of his willpower not to scream out in shock. He springs up on his bed instantly, banging his arm against the wall behind him, defenses already up and ready to attack. How did this person manage to get past the Zoldyck butlers unscathed? Where did he come from and why is he _here_?

“Hi!” the stranger says with an all too cheerful tone. “Um, where am I?”

That’s when Killua looks at him, _really_ looks at him, and what he sees has his mind reeling. Thinks, with terrifying certainty: _I know you._ And registers: spiky hair. A nervous smile. Obnoxiously green clothes.

A boy who stepped out of his dreams.

“Y-you…” He stammers, not fully comprehending. “Who _are_ you?”

“My name is Gon Freecss,” the boy says, simple, and it answers Killua’s question but doesn’t at the same time. He wants to ask where he came from, how he can appear in a dream and reality at the same time, if he’s even real or simply just a hallucinated side-effect of some drug Illumi got him to ingest, but what comes out is none of those, not a question at all, but perhaps just as important.

“I’m Killua.”

And his heartbeat picks up, quickening for reasons unknown to him. Gon smiles at him, wide and genuine in a way that makes the white-haired boy want to reach out and capture this stranger, so he can keep the wild that Gon brings with him close by at all times.

He watches as Gon looks around his room with wide eyes. There isn’t much furniture here, just a bed and an abandoned desk off to the corner surrounded by the shadows of a place Killua has never really come to know as _home_. Other than the hours he spends sleeping, he is usually somewhere else—in one of his brothers’ rooms or in the dungeons underground or out playing in the trees that enclose the Zoldyck Manor. Anything to avoid the loneliness that sometimes threatens to swallow him whole.

“Is this your bedroom?” The island boy asks, taking everything in.

“Yeah,” Killua replies and almost asks Gon what he thinks of this place, this house that isn’t a home, but he blinks before shaking his head. “Listen, I don’t know how you got here but you can’t stay, okay? You have to leave before anyone else sees you—”

Three sharp knocks on the door interrupts his sentence as his eyes widen, gesturing urgently at Gon to hide somewhere, quick, but Gon only blinks back at him, not quite understanding.

Without waiting for a response, the door opens to reveal Illumi. “Kil, it’s dinnertime.”

“Um.” Killua glances back at Gon and then at his brother again.

Illumi tilts his head to the side, long hair falling back with the movement. “What are you looking at? Is something wrong?”

Sneaking another peak at Gon from his peripheral vision, Killua is careful to maintain a neutral expression on his face. It’s weird, he thinks, that his brother hasn’t taken action against Gon yet, because intruders are usually dealt with strictly and efficiently. What’s different this time? Why is Illumi acting as if—?

He swallows.

And realizes: Illumi can’t see Gon.

“Nothing,” Killua replies, then quickly adds, “You go first. I’ll be right there.”

Illumi gives him a long stare but eventually leaves without saying anything. Slumping against the wall in relief, Killua lets out a shaky sigh at how badly that situation could’ve gone. His mind works in overdrive as he tries to make sense of everything, whether he’s seeing someone who isn’t actually there or there’s something preventing others from seeing Gon, and takes a moment to just breathe.

When he looks up again, the other boy is gone.  
  
.

“I _know_ you,” Killua whispers to the dark, to the emptiness, to the universe and anyone who is willing to listen, and feels the truth of his words skin deep, bone deep, heart deep.  
  
.

He doesn’t tell anyone about Gon. It strangely feels like a secret, a soul bond only for them to know. There’s something between the two of them, he’s sure of it, something beyond the dream-like experiences into each other’s lives. It’s simpler, less magical, more familiar—and Killua can’t pinpoint exactly what it is but it’s _there_.

The trees of Kukuro Mountain seem to welcome him back as he makes his way up to the main mansion. With his hands tucked deep into his pockets, he greets Mike by the Testing Gates before walking deeper into the forest that wraps around the Zoldyck Manor.

Just as he’s about to step inside the building, everything around him changes. The fog surrounding Kukuro Mountain is replaced by clear waters and somehow, Killua knows he is now farther away from his house but much, much closer to home.

Looking around, he doesn’t think that he’ll ever get used to this. Thinks maybe he doesn’t ever want to.

Gon is sitting on a hill looking out at the ocean that seems to be made out of galaxies. He watches the waves roll off one another in cycles of blue and cyan and sapphire and says, “Dad, I met someone a while ago.” Pause. And then, quieter, “I hope, one day, you’ll meet him too.”

Killua stays in place, not daring to move and interrupt the moment. The sun is just beginning to set here on Whale Island, the world shifting through a myriad of colours within the span of a few minutes. Clouds dance above them and it’s the first time he’s seeing such a phenomenon through his own eyes, through Gon’s eyes. A scene too tranquil to be disturbed.

Eventually, Gon turns around and smiles at him as if he knew he had been there the whole time, gesturing at the spot on the grass for Killua to join him. When the white-haired boy sits down, he laces his fingers between Gon’s like it’s second nature and leans against him comfortably as they watch nighttime settle around them; says without saying, _I’m here_.

For a brief moment, Killua lets himself be a boy—just a boy. Allows the sunset and fresh breeze passing by to strip him of his assassin title and, in the back of his mind, speculates what it would be like to grow up off the mainland, on a little island full of green. Some day, he hopes to make a home here, among the trees and flowers and other wildlife, a cabin in the woods with the boy from his dreams.

Gon’s laughter rings like chimes when he faces the other, exclaiming softly, “Killua, you’re glowing!”

He looks down and sees a shimmer of an outline around his body. His body feels weightless, seemingly drifting on with the dandelion seeds in the air. As he holds up a hand, light shines through it and he realizes that he has almost become transparent. He guesses this is goodbye.

“See you again next time,” Gon says, not completely understanding what is going on either but taking it in stride. Means: _thanks for keeping me company while you could._

Killua nods, helpless to the fact that he’s fading away. He misses it already, the carefree sensation of being next to Gon, the feeling of a home away from home. He can see the peak of Kukuro Mountain pushing through the clouds of Whale Island now, the doors to his family mansion reappearing in front of him right where he left it.

He reminds himself that this is not goodbye.

_Next time._  
  
.

What he sees when he returns to the Zoldyck household: Illumi and a face that shows disapproval.

The harsh reality of this life hits him with full force. He’s reminded of the expectations he’s meant to uphold, the responsibilities of being the next heir, the training he has to undergo, and the killings he needs to perform on behalf of the family business. It’s all suddenly too much when the only thing he wants to do is breathe in the sun-sparkled air circulating around an island that sprouts nature itself.

For the first time, he thinks: _I want out._  
  
.

“Kalluto, what would you do if you were the heir?”

The young boy dressed in a black kimino pauses in cutting paper dolls and glances up at his older brother with indifferent eyes. “But that’s your role.”

Silence. Then, Killua nods.

“Right.”

.

“Milluki, what would you do if you were the heir?”

He receives both a scowl and a sneer all in one as the furious typing continues. “What? Quit bothering me with your nonsense.”

“If you were the heir,” he presses, “what would you do?”

The older assassin doesn’t even look at him. “Why would I even want that in the first place?”

.

“Illumi,” the white-haired boy pauses, hesitant, “what would you do if you were the heir?”

His brother stares at him with so much intensity that he has to force himself not to turn away. There is something unreadable in his eyes, hints of suppressed emotions in dark irises that form an expression that Killua has never seen before.

Finally, Illumi takes him by the arm and leads him out the door, replying simply, “Don’t ask meaningless questions, Kil.”  
  
.

The buzzing of electricity fills the room, sparks gathering on the electric rod in Illumi’s hands. Killua is chained up again as he watches his oldest brother twirl the weapon between his fingers a few times with ease. This has always been Killua’s least favourite method of training despite the numerous times he’s done it already, despite being told he should be used to it by now.

Illumi doesn’t give any warning when he strikes, pressing the rod against the young assassin’s back. Killua arches forward in response, chains rattling, and grits his teeth hard to suppress the scream bubbling up his throat. The sting lasts for one, two, three agonizing seconds. He releases a breath to gasp for air when Illumi finally steps away in silent approval.

Ten minutes later, ten minutes that feel like years, Killua can’t hear anything except for his own echoing cries. The electric rod has been turned up to inhumane voltage levels, Illumi standing beside him with a distinct lack of sympathy. Killua’s vision blurs as he phases in and out of consciousness and he thinks that he must be imagining it when he hears a scream that is not his own.

_“Stop!”_

He blinks slowly. Off to the side, he catches sight of a familiar combination of green that layers between the black spots creeping into his view, threatening to take over his senses. For a second, Killua isn’t sure if what he’s seeing is actually real or if this is simply something his mind conjured, but the way those hardened eyes look at him, molten fury and undisguised anguish—somehow, that is even more painful to bear than the electric shocks rattling along his back.

“G-Gon…” he tries to say, tries to reassure the island boy that it’s okay. He’s fine. This is nothing out of the ordinary and he’s endured far worse than this before. But his mouth is dry and his vocal chords are hoarse from all the screams dragged forcefully out of his lungs and he can’t seem to produce any sounds beyond a meek stutter of Gon’s name.

The next time Illumi brings down the electric rod, Gon becomes hysterical. He hits and punches and kicks at the older assassin in angry protests; yelling, _you’re hurting him!_ _This is torture! Stop it! Fucking stop!_

Through Killua’s eyes, he watches a boy desperately trying to defend his friend. A boy desperately trying to defend _him_. 

What Illumi feels: nothing.

All the attacks make contact in a fury of raw emotion, but there is no impact. The older assassin does not feel him, does not see or hear him, and continues to strike down at his brother with only the task of raising Killua’s endurance in mind. Sparks of electricity sizzle around the room in merciless hunger.

Here, Gon learns the cruelty of a world foreign to him. He cannot interact with this realm, subjected to helpless speculation and nothing more. He cannot do anything. He cries and cries and breaks and breaks until he rips himself open into pieces as an invisible force pulls him away from the pale boy hanging half-dead in a dark, dark dungeon.   
  
.

Illumi unties the chains from Killua’s wrists and sets him steady on the ground. He leads the younger boy out the room with a hand to Killua’s back, which is about as affectionate as he gets, and says, “Good job, Kil. Mother and father are waiting to speak to you.”

What Killua feels: a little bit of pride mixed in with the throbbing of pain that hasn’t completely gone away. Relief that the day’s training is finally over. And—shame.

Shame for letting Gon see him in such a vulnerable position.  
  
.

The winds of Whale Island greet Killua with a reassuring brush against his back as he pushes off from one tree branch onto the next. There’s an acute sense of déjà vu to this as he maneuvers his way through the brimming forests of a place that’s becoming more and more familiar to him.

Just a few steps in front of him is Gon in his usual green clothing and all his glory. Killua wonders if he’ll always be chasing the other boy, subjected to watching his image fade further and further away as the distance between them grows. He wonders if he’ll ever catch up to someone as free as Gon.

Almost as if sensing his thoughts, Gon stops and turns around, smiling when he notices Killua coming up behind him. In his arms, he holds a basket woven of tree bark and bamboo.

“Hey,” Gon says as Killua falls into step beside him. “I had a feeling you were here too.”

“Creep,” the white-haired boy teases. “What are you doing?”

Gon sticks his tongue out at the jest. “I was just going to collect some herbs and berries. Want to come along?”

“Sure.” Killua grins.

They wander deeper into the forest, stopping every now and then for Gon to add something to his basket. He lists off interesting facts about each herb he picks up, little tidbits of information he’s accumulated over the years from going out and spending so much time in the woods. Eventually, they come across a small group of trees that make up a grove, layers of fronds forming a canopy over their heads.

“Look,” Gon whispers as if sharing a secret, kneeling down and pointing to a small bush of round-shaped leaves that span out from pale, pink flowers. “My aunt Mito told me that those are jequirity plants. Be careful not to touch them, though, because they’re known to be—”

“—poisonous,” Killua cuts in, recognizing the bright red rosary seeds budding on some of the leaves. “They’re also called _Abrus precatorius_ but they’re really only harmful if you break open the skin.”

Gon looks up at him. “You’ve heard of them before?”

“… Yeah, I guess.” He shrugs in response while maintaining an indifferent façade.

What he doesn’t say: _I’ve used them to kill._

He thinks about all the times he’s crushed up the seeds and brought them with him on assassination missions. It only takes three micrograms of abrin, the toxic substance found inside, to make a lethal dose when ingested by a fully-grown adult, organs failing in no longer than four days.

In a twisted way, it really is a beautiful death. When Killua had returned from his first time using jequirity plants on the job, his mother had commemorated the occasion by requesting for a custom beaded necklace to be made from the leftover rosary seeds. The jeweler had died from accidentally pricking his finger when threading the beads together, but the product was complete and strung proudly around his mother’s neck.

“Killua,” Gon says, suddenly serious. They’re still kneeling down on the grass and he leans in closer, staring so intensely that the white-haired boy has to force himself not to back away under the pressure. “Why were you being tortured last time?”

It’s been a week since they were both in the dungeons of the Zoldyck Manor and Killua can tell that Gon has not forgotten their previous meeting. A part of him doesn’t believe it to be such a big deal—it was just a regular day of training, after all—and another part of him discreetly wonders if, perhaps, it _should_ be a more concerning matter.

In the end, he simply shrugs in attempt to play it off nonchalantly. “It’s just part of my routine. Illumi, my older brother, brings me to the basement and we go through different endurance tests every day. The one you happened to witness last time was to build up electrocution resistance.”

With the frown that crosses Gon’s face, Killua can instantly tell that this information does not satisfy him at all. The stem of a plant Gon had been holding snaps in half between his hands and Killua isn’t even sure if Gon had noticed.

“That was your _brother_?” The island boy is absolutely vibrating, waves of anger rolling off his body. “How can he—how can he _do_ that?”

“What,” Killua mutters, “is it wrong?”

A flare of rage flickers in Gon’s eyes and he stands up abruptly, knocking over his basket of herbs and berries. “Of course it’s wrong!”

And Killua looks at this boy with the heart of an island thrumming through his veins, hands clenched tightly into fists by his sides, and sees someone who is upset on his behalf; this boy he’s grown closer to these past few months, who breathes in the air of a land foreign to him, who does not know torture to be a normality in his life. “Who… are you?” Killua muses, and wonders if it is truly him who is the odd one out.

Gon’s gaze is unwavering when he responds, “Someone who cares about you.”

The words coming out of the brown-haired boy’s mouth are the same as what he’s heard his brother say numerous times but contrasts greatly in both tone and meaning. _“This is for your own good, Kil,”_ Illumi had told him as he dragged Killua along for another long round of training. _“I’m doing this because I care.”_

Seeing Gon now, lips pressed together and an expression in his eyes that is pained as if he, himself, had been the one undergoing electrocution endurance, Killua truly feels the divide between the two of them. Between him and the rest of the world.

And this, he forces himself to acknowledge, is the hard-to-swallow truth: the dream-like phenomenon might have brought them together, but it has not necessarily brought them any _closer_.

From out in the forest, the trees shake in loud rustling movements that remind Killua of his own turmoiled thoughts. Before he gets a chance to voice any of his uncertainties, a large creature steps into view, almost reaching the tallest treetop in height. It stands on its hind legs, clawed paws grabbing onto tree trunks and parting them to clear a path with ease. Covered in brown fur, the animal leaves a rumble of earthquakes behind with each step forward.

Killua jumps to his feet and raises an arm instinctively in defense. He spares a quick glance at Gon before returning his focus back on the beast. Over the sound of animalistic growls, he shouts, “What the hell is that?”

“A foxbear!” Gon is smiling in spite of the situation, his tone changing completely. “They’re a native species to Whale Island, I think. You’re so lucky you get to meet one, Killua!”

The assassin looks at the creature that has pointy ears and deadly teeth drooling with saliva and doesn’t feel particularly _lucky._ “Well, how do we kill it?” He flexes the muscles on his hands, revealing a set of sharp nails. “How about I stop its movements and you find a chance to strike it down?”

_“No,_ wait—! _”_ Gon runs to tackle him just as he is about to aim a slash at the foxbear’s legs. They tumble across the grass and they end up facing each other, Killua lying flat on his back while Gon props himself up above him. “You can’t kill it! They’re friendly!”

“What about that thing seems _friendly_ to you? It looks like it wants to maul off our faces and swallow some human meat for dinner!”

“It’s just _hungry_.”

And they’re close, faces almost touching and breaths warm on the other’s cheeks. All Killua has to do is raise his head and he’d bump foreheads with Gon or wrap his arms around Gon’s neck and pull him against his body. The foxbear marches toward them with determination but Killua can only focus on the chocolate brown of Gon’s eyes.

“We’re going to die,” he mutters, feeling oddly calm and faraway from the threat that’s approaching just a few meters from where they are. He doesn’t want to move from this spot.

When Gon laughs, he is radiant, sunlight spilling out from behind his lips. With a heave, he stands and offers an outstretched hand to help pull the white-haired boy up. “Come on, I won’t let you die here.”

“Yeah?” Killua asks, eyebrow raised. He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face as he clasps onto Gon’s hand with his own. “What do you propose we do, then?”

“We _run._ ”

And just like that, Gon takes off back in the direction of the forest, disappearing behind a curtain of leaves. Killua follows him just as a large paw strikes at the spot where they had been lying. The foxbear roars, Gon’s laughter echoes throughout the woodlands, and Killua thinks he’s finally, finally found a place where he belongs. A place where he wants to be.

Whale Island: one step into a dream. Home of exotic, crossbred animals. A boy who picks berries and rolls around in the meadows and links his fingers between Killua’s—just because he can.

A boy who _cares_.

A boy whom Killua cares for, too.  
  
.

Pointing to the top of a moderately steep hill, Gon leads the two of them toward the house with a brick-red roof. This is his home, he tells Killua, and the contrasting differences in comparison to Killua’s own house is glaringly obvious. The Zoldyck Manor is far bigger in both size and land area than this isolated building on an island, and yet, Gon’s home feels—warmer, somehow. More welcoming.

When the door opens, they are greeted by a woman who Killua assumes must be Gon’s aunt, the one he hasn’t been able to stop talking about on their way here. Mito Freecss takes one look at Gon’s dirtied clothes, grass stains and ripped edges that weren’t there when he left earlier in the day, and gasps at the poor state of his belongings.

“Gon!” she exclaims. “What happened? Where are the berries you went out to pick?”

“Oh right,” Gon chuckles nervously, “I must have dropped them when the foxbear showed up and chased us through the forest. Sorry, Aunt Mito.”

“A foxbear _chased you through the forest_?”

“Yeah! It seemed really hungry; I hope it found some other food to eat.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Mito sighs and shakes her head in disbelief. This is just how Gon is sometimes, completely unaware of the danger he was exposed to. “Alright, well, come inside for now. Dinner is ready, so you can eat first but after that I want you to take a shower, okay? You’ve got mud all over you.”

Gon hums in agreement and gestures for Killua to come in as well. Hesitating, the white-haired boy lingers by the doorway for a few seconds when he realizes that this is the first time he’s ever been invited into someone else’s home. He doesn’t have to break in or sneak through the halls like he’s so often done on assassination mission; he’s wanted here, on this house that rests on top of a hill in the middle of Whale Island. Gon _wants_ him here.

With a deep breath, he takes a step forward.

Inside: the sweet smell of freshly cooked food displayed on a wooden table in the kitchen, plates and utensils set up for a family of three. From a different room, Gon carries in an extra chair and places it beside his own, motioning at Killua to take a seat. Gon’s smile is bright and everything about this atmosphere is comfortable and warm; nothing like the meals he’s used to having back at the Zoldyck Manor.

Mito walks over and places a bowl of rice in front of the brown-haired boy. “Who is that extra chair for, Gon?”

When Gon looks up at her, he grins. “This is Killua, my new friend,” he introduces. “Killua, this is my aunt, Mito.”

The woman studies the seat, concern weaving its way throughout her face. “Gon… there’s no one there.”

Realization dawns on them at the same time as Gon and Killua exchange looks. Mito cannot see Killua just as Illumi could not see Gon, and they still don’t know why but it reminds them that their worlds were perhaps not meant to intersect at all. As Gon struggles to come up with an explanation to reassure his aunt, an elderly woman walks into the room, orange robe hanging off her shoulders and grey hair tied in a bun.

“It’s nice to meet you, Killua,” she says, voice slightly strained and talking slow. “Mito, what are you doing just standing there? The least we could do is offer some food to Gon’s friend.”

“Grandma Abe!” Gon exclaims while Mito glances between the two of them in confusion.

“You can see him, mom?” Mito asks.

“Why, of course,” the elderly woman replies, a hint of laughter hidden behind her words in a way that makes it impossible for Killua to tell if she’s speaking the truth or not. “Are you saying that you can’t?”

Frowning, Mito looks in Killua’s direction again. “Well… I don’t know.” She stares at his chair for a while longer before sighing and resigning in acceptance. “Alright, does your friend want some food to eat too, Gon?”

Gon glances over at Killua, who shakes his head sadly, knowing that he most likely wouldn’t be able to eat the food, anyway. As Mito brings out the rest of the meal, Killua takes in the scene in front of him and it almost feels surreal. Everything about this small dinner table feels warm, nothing like the near-silent dinners he’s used to back at the Zoldyck Manor, where conversation is strained and they all chew on their food quickly to leave the suffocating atmosphere as soon as possible.

Looking at Gon and Mito and Grandma Abe, he thinks that maybe this is how meals are meant to be shared. He thinks that maybe this is how moms are supposed to treat their kids, with love and care and not a glass of poison forced down the throats of ten-year-old children.

Maybe this is how a family is supposed to be.

_Family._

A flash of a pink dress and black hair passes through his mind suddenly. A colourful room filled with toys, locked behind strong metal doors. The image is vague and fleeting and it slips through his fingers just as he tries to get a better grasp at it; a memory from a long time ago—lost, but perhaps not entirely forgotten.

He takes this feeling and locks it up inside of him; holds on to it because even though he doesn’t quite know what it is, exactly, it still feels like something important. Like something he shouldn’t forget.

And focusing his attention back to the present, this simple meal at the Freecss household isn’t something he wants to forget, either.

.

“Hey,” Gon says, grabbing Killua’s hand once he’s done eating to lead him out of the room. “Let’s go up to the roof.”

.

The rooftop brings them closer to the stars, two silhouettes under a darkened sky. Killua tilts his head to watch the twinkling of white lights above them, shoulder pressed up against Gon’s. There’s a streak of pink that stretches across the heavens overhead and it reminds Killua of an old fairytale about the god who created the Amanogawa river in the sky to separate two lovers, Orihime and Hikoboshi. Forbidden to meet each other except on one day every year.

When he faces Gon, he sees something close to unattainable, something just out of reach like the interceded love of two deities. He sees Orihime’s stubbornness coursing through his veins, tears that summon magpies to build a bridge over the impossible. Gon himself _is_ the impossible and Killua feels drawn to him in the same way thread weaves through a princess’ silk robes. 

“Who are you?” Killua murmurs, not really meaning to voice the question aloud as he absorbs the sight of Gon on the rooftop. The way the shadows are painted on the island boy’s face make it seem like he’s glowing, like there are lunar particles shimmering just underneath the surface of his skin.

With his eyes now turned in Killua’s direction, Gon locks their hands together and says simply, “Yours.”

_If you’ll let me be._

.

“What does that mean?” Killua asks, words coming out more aggressively than he’d intended. He finds that sometimes Gon speaks of things in rhymes, in riddles, in mystery book narrations with the last page ripped out and missing. 

Gon looks taken aback, cheeks flushing. There are secrets filtering on the tip of his tongue that threaten to spill out and he forces himself to swallow before answering, “Well, I mean, we’re friends, right?”

“You—” Killua begins before cutting himself off, mind reeling in attempt to wrap his thoughts around a concept still foreign to him. “You want to be… my friend?”

“Aren’t we already friends?”

Killua blinks, pausing.

_Are they?_  
  
.

He looks up again and sees three stars brighter than all the others: Vega, Deneb, and Altair.

(Him, Gon, and the impossible.)

The three celestial bodies seem to call out to one another, and Killua fells something resonating deep within his soul; says to himself, a promise, _this summer starts with a triangle._  
  
.

“Do you think that, maybe one day, we’ll stop seeing each other altogether?” Gon asks with the innocence of a child who cannot yet understand that some things just aren’t meant to last forever. Neither of them know how the mechanics of their connection really works, why they’re only able to stay in each other’s world for a few hours at a time, why _them_ , but this is a looming fear that has been present in the back of their minds since the very start.

“I don’t know,” Killua replies, honest. Regretful.

Means: _I hope not._  
  
.

The streets of Yorknew City are quiet and almost completely empty at night, illuminated only by dim streetlights as the downpour of rain hits the ground. With a hood over his head, Killua stands on top of a tall skyscraper, looking down at the road beneath him. Across the street, there is a single car parked outside a corporate building, waiting to pick up the same person Killua is waiting for: one of the head bodyguards of the Nostrade mafia family sent to retrieve valuable information from an ally, Linssen.

As Linssen steps out of the building and greets his driver, the white-haired assassin watches the car engine roar to life, the vehicle starting to accelerate. Standing at the edge of the roof, Killua extends one foot forward to take a step into the open space in front of him, and allows his body to free-fall along the side of the building like one of the water droplets. Just as he approaches the ground, he uses his feet to push off the wall behind him to launch himself in the direction of Linssen’s car.

The heavy rain makes it easy for Killua to conceal him presence, and once he’s close enough, he digs his nails into the tires of the car, effectively slashing the wheels. It’s oddly satisfying to see it swerve out of control while the driver frantically tries to steer the vehicle to safety.

When the car screeches to a stop, Killua is there to open the door for Lissen to get out. He smiles at the confused look on Lissen’s face before jabbing a hand into the bodyguard’s heart and then turning around to do the same when the driver emerges from the other side.

With a flick, he shakes off the blood from his skin. Having completed his job, he begins to walk away only to stop dead in his tracks when, for just a second, he notices a figure standing on the other side of the street. Squinting through the rain, his heart drops as his brain registers the person standing wordlessly, unmoving.

_Gon?_

It’s then that he realizes what he’s just done as he glances down at his hands. Despite Linssen and his driver being nowhere near innocent as part of the underground mafia community, Killua had still _killed_ them, easily, effortlessly.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he forces himself to continue walking and doesn’t look back to see if Gon is still there.

.

The next time they meet, Gon seems to be in deep thought.

“About last time,” Killua starts, feeling as if he has to clear up any misunderstandings, “I’m from a family of assassins. I was hired to kill those men.”

His words hang in the air for so long that he begins to wonder if the other boy even heard what he said. Finally, when Gon turns to him, he asks a question that sounds more like a statement, “You were just doing your job.”

Killua nods. “Right.”

Gon goes silent again. He doesn’t say anything else but when he eventually turns to fully face Killua, the expression on his face sends a very clear message:

_Does that give you the right to take lives under the excuse of simply following orders?_

.

Long after Gon has left and he’s reported the success of his mission to his father, Killua muses over the clean performance of his kill, how he was able to take Lissen’s life with little resistance, and wonders why he feels so dissatisfied despite completing his job with the utmost precision.  
  
.

A realization: maybe— _maybe_ he wants to be defined by more than simply the death count on his blood-stained fingertips.  
  
.

“Tell me about your dreams,” Killua says, joining Gon under the shade of a large tree, reaching out to touch the swaying branches that hang down from above them. There are untold stories hidden beneath Gon’s eyelids and worlds not-yet-explored between the spaces of his sun-sparkled freckles, and Killua wants to know them all. Wants to know everything there is about this boy born of solar flares and supernovas.

Leaning back against the trunk of the tree, Gon breathes out wistfully, “I want to meet my dad.”

In that moment, for only a second, on the face covered with coffee-brown hair, Killua sees: loneliness dancing across cheekbones, kissing the corners of his lips; the last piece of a missing childhood just on the outskirts of his eyes but never in his line of sight.

“I have to leave this island,” Gon continues and something in Killua shatters so suddenly that he barely has time to acknowledge the change. “It’s my home, I love it, but it’s starting to become restricting. I think I need to just… go. You know?” 

Killua nods then because he’s supposed to, but he wonders—wonders how a place like Whale Island could ever feel _restricting_ to anyone. He’s positively certain that this landscape of tall grass and clear waters and exotic crossbred animals is _magic_. It’s the manifestation of pure energy thrumming deep within the soil through the roots of plants; the connection that keeps him tied to Gon in a way that they may never understand.

Once Gon leaves, what will become of them?  
  
.

“Tell me about your dreams,” it’s Gon’s turn to ask, redirecting the question back at Killua with a curious gaze. 

At that moment, the world seems to still around them as the assassin closes his eyes and bites his tongue to stop himself from saying:

_You._

_All I dream about lately is you._  
  
.

Their connection is a fickle thing. It’s not something they have control over, subjected to waiting for the universe to bring them together at its will. They put their faith in system because there is no other option, trusting that they’ll be able to connect with each other one more time. Just one more time. Again and again— _one more time._  

But when it stops, there is no warning, no one they can turn to in demand for an explanation. The silence stretches as days pass by slowly, and soon, it’s been weeks without any form of contact between the two of them. Months.

Killua doesn’t see Gon for a long time.  
  
.

Suddenly, in his bedroom, in the dungeons of the Zoldyck Manor, on his family property behind the Testing Gates, Killua feels trapped. Without realizing it, Whale Island had become his escape, something he looked forward to despite not being able to control his visits to Gon’s homeland. He had finally found something unrelated to his family and the duties he’s expected to uphold, a thing that’s solely unique to _him_ , and for once in his life he had been free of Illumi’s influence. 

Now that it’s gone, he misses it dearly.

_“Do you think that, maybe one day, we’ll stop seeing each other altogether?”_ Gon asked that one night on the rooftop when they sat side-by-side simply enjoying each other’s company. And Killua had prayed, to the moon and stars and whatever else was up there, that his time with Gon would last.

A lot of the times, he catches himself talking to Gon in his head, the most recent incidence being when he was cutting paper dolls with Kalluto. It’s not his favourite activity but it’s the only thing Kalluto himself is insistent on doing, so Killua begrudgingly complies and sits with his younger sibling for hours at a time, making shapes out of paper.

They don’t really talk—Kalluto doesn’t talk much in general—but the atmosphere around them is comfortable. Legs crossed, Killua glides the scissors around effortlessly and makes conversation with Gon in his head as if the island boy were there with them.

Because that’s how it is with the people you care about: there isn’t a day that goes by where you don’t think of them. You never forget, not truly, and you may not want to remember sometimes either, but the thought of them appears regardless. Killua makes a home for Gon in his mind and is reminded of Whale Island whenever he looks up at the sky that is also an ocean. He takes in the green trees surrounding Kukuro Mountain and thinks of fishing rods; sees familiarity in the everyday things and thinks, _Gon._

Then, when he blinks, the fantasy dissolves and it’s just another memory that he has lost in the vast, unknowing space between steps of a dream.

Reality is a cruel, cruel thing.  
  
.

From up on a tree branch, Killua can see all of his family’s property extending out before him. The immense piece of land that belongs to the Zoldycks is all that he knew while growing up. Balancing his skateboard on the branch by his feet, he finally acknowledges the realization that he truly doesn’t know anything about the world beyond the prison walls of the Testing Gates.

Picking an apple off the tree, he rubs it on his sleeve before taking a bite. It tastes a bit crunchy, a bit juicy, a bit bland. Everything is a little bit bland these days. 

He senses a presence then, and looks down to see a young girl wearing the butler uniform, hands curled around a staff behind her back. She bows at him and says, “Hello, Master Killua.”

“Who are you?” He asks.

“My name is Canary, and I was recently hired as an apprentice butler.” She looks at him with large eyes and a faint smile on her lips.

Killua reaches out and plucks another apple off the tree, offering it to her. “Want one?”

“No, thank you,” Canary replies with another bow. “I appreciate the gesture, but I’m afraid I cannot accept that.”

He frowns, tossing both apples on the ground before jumping down himself, skateboard tucked securely underneath his arms. “Well then, are you at least willing to be friends?”

When Canary shakes her head sadly, it doesn’t surprise Killua at all. “I apologize, Master Killua.”

The assassin hums, then leans in as if to share a secret. “You know, I have a friend who lives far away,” he whispers. “He grew up on an island and invited me over for dinner. I haven’t been able to see him lately, but I think I’m going to go out and find him.”

From the confused expression on Canary’s face, he can tell that she most likely doesn’t understand any of what he is saying, but it helps him to voice the words aloud. It makes it real, a promise to himself, and as he walks away, his mind is already set.  
  
.  
  
The small backpack Killua straps over his shoulders holds only the essentials: some clothes, a few protein bars, and a handful of cash for emergencies. It’s not much, especially considering that this is essentially his survival pack, but it’s enough. This is all he needs. 

Grabbing his skateboard on the way out, it's quiet as usual as he walks down the hall that connects his room to the front entrance of the Zoldyck Manor. It’s hard not to have doubts even though he’s made up his mind; these walls, this place that he’s known his whole life—he’s going to leave it all behind today.

As he approaches the last turn, he comes across an obstacle.

“Oh, Killua, I was just looking for you!” Kikyo exclaims, running up to him. “I need you to come with me to—”

“Mother,” Killua interjects, his voice low and carefully controlled. Inside his chest, his heart picks up speed. “Please step aside.”

She blinks at him and seems to notice the backpack around his shoulders for the first time. “What’s wrong? Why are you carrying a bag?” When Killua remains silent, she adds, voice increasing in pitch, “Are you… going out?”

“I’m leaving.”

Kikyo tilts her head. “But I thought you didn’t have another job until later this month.”

“It’s not a job,” Killua says. “I’m not coming back.”

“Leaving… not coming back…” She mutters, repeating the words over and over again until it finally seems to register in her brain and she _screams_ then, lets out a piercing cry and asks, _“Why? Why, Killua dear, why are you leaving?”_

When Killua attempts to walk around her, she moves to block his way, and he acts purely on instinct as he strikes out in front of him, nails digging into her eyes. He pulls out immediately to jump away and it takes a couple of seconds, but he realizes that he doesn’t regret it.

He watches as Kikyo stumbles back in shock before slumping to the ground. There are tears streaming down her face now, tears mixed with blood, and she sobs as she brings a hand to her wound. _“Killua, you attacked me! Your own mother!”_ Between the crying, she begins to laugh hysterically, voice shrill as it echoes off the walls all around them. _“Finally, my boy is growing up! I’m so proud of you, Kil, you’re going to make an excellent heir to the family!”_

The door to their right opens and Milluki sticks his head outside with a scowl.

“Will you guys keep it down—?” And then he sees Killua’s clawed fingers covered in blood, their mother collapsed on the ground, hands clutching over her eyes. He lets out a strangled sound and immediately runs to her side, glaring at Killua. “Fucking brat, have you finally gone crazy? What did you do to mother?”

Killua turns to him, eyes narrowed. “Don’t get in the way, Milluki.”  

“ _Piece of shit,_ get back here and help mom!” He spits out, scrambling to chase after Killua.

The younger boy turns around and slashes his arm forward, splitting open the skin on Milluki’s stomach, cutting deep enough to prevent his brother from further interfering without damaging any major organs. Milluki lets out a scream of pain and anger, Kikyo continues to sing praises at Killua despite being half-blinded, and all of it makes him feel a little sick. Sick of everything related to his family.

This time, as he walks away, no one goes after him, but he stops himself when he notices someone else in the hallway.

“G-Gon,” he greets. It’s been months since he last saw him and out of all the times, this—this isn’t how they were supposed to meet again. The look on his friend’s face is downright scary. He’s never seen Gon make such an expression before. “How long have you been here?”

The stretch of silence that follows tells him what he needs to know: _long enough_.

“Listen, I was—it’s not—” He frantically tries to unscramble the words on the tip of his tongue, to find a way to communicate to Gon that _this isn’t what it looks like_ , but it’s too late because Gon’s body is already shimmering and within a few seconds, the brown-haired boy has returned to Whale Island.

Killua curses as he takes in the scene around him. His mother and Milluki are on the ground, fresh blood pooling around the wound on their bodies. His father and Zeno aren’t around and Kalluto is just in the other room, blissfully unaware, and Ilumi won’t return from his mission for another week.

The look on Gon’s face when he saw Killua stab his family members—his own goddamn mother and brother—makes the assassin falter in his step and rethink his decision. He could stay and help bandage up their injuries, but if he does, he’ll never get a chance like this again. He’s certain that they’ll watch him more carefully from now on, maybe lock him up so that he won’t be able to escape even if he wants to.

Reluctantly, Killua picks up his skateboard and walks out of the building he grew up in, ignoring the angry cries from Milluki behind him.  
  
.

“Were you planning to leave without even saying goodbye, Master Killua?” 

Before even turning around, Killua recognizes the presence that appears at his side just as he approaches the Testing Gates. The familiar aura is subdued but still detectable, and when he turns around, he forces himself to smile. This is the one thing he’s going to miss about Kukuro Mountain, he thinks, the person he could have eventually considered a friend if only he had more time.

“Bye, Canary,” he says, wishing more than anything that they had met under different circumstances.

The young butler smiles back at him, staff resting in her hands as always. She knows better than to try to convince him to stay—she _respects_ him more than that, more than just her duty as a servant to her master—so she simply lowers her head and bows; keeps her eyes on the ground until she’s sure that he’s gone.

And then, to the wind, she allows herself two final words: “Goodbye, Killua.”  
  
.

He doesn’t see Gon again after that. 

With the money he brought with him, Killua rents various hotel rooms as he moves from city to city. For a while, he lives off fast food and isn’t above stealing when he needs to, and he thinks that some store owners have taken pity on him because they think he’s just a homeless kid who doesn’t know any better.

They’re not wrong, he supposes; it’s not like he has anywhere permanent to stay now. When he had left Kukuro Mountain, Killua had only wanted to get _out_. He had no destination in mind, no plan whatsoever for the next few weeks of his life, so he wanders through the streets aimlessly, doing nothing more than simply passing by the days. But subconsciously, he always knew where he wanted to go—there was only one place he really belonged.

The memory he never wants to forget: a boy dressed in green who he wishes and hopes and prays isn’t actually just a fragment of a dream. He has brown eyes that light up whenever he laughs, a part of the wild mixed in between stands of dark hair, and the most alluring voice when he calls out Killua’s name.

Gon Freecss embodies the forest itself, survival instincts engraved in his skin so deeply that he doesn’t know of anything else besides the nature surrounding his home on Whale Island. With ambitions set high, he chases after his father, recklessness flowing through his blood every step of the way.

Once, what seems like lifetimes ago, their galaxies had collided. Killua felt the starbursts exploding every time they had touched each other even though it shouldn’t have been possible and their connection had been as fragile as little glass stars hanging on broken skies, but still— _even still_ —

If Gon is indeed real and part of this world, Killua is determined to find him.  
  
.

It takes a while, but as with anything, rumours spawn about the infamous Hunter Exam as the end of the year draws closer. In about a month’s time, it reaches Killua’s ears.  
  
.

“Hey, it’s almost January, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah?”

“You know what that means. It’s going to start again soon.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Hunter Exam, idiot. Do you live under a rock?”

“Hey, don’t judge my living habits.”

“Oh my god.”

.

“Do you think you’ll ever sign up to participate?”

“Ha, do I look like I have a death wish to you?”

A pause.

“Yeah… you’re right. Apparently only one in ten thousand applicants even make it to the exam location every year.”

“What happens to the ones that don’t make it?”

“Who knows.”

Another pause.

“Shit, man.”

.

“You know that there are tons of benefits that come with having a Hunter License?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Like fame and access to a secret database of information—”

“Doesn’t sound like something I’d use often, though.”

“—and _almost no legal responsibilities_. Think of everything we could do!”

“… Dude.”

“I know, I know. It was just a thought.  
  
.

It’s another few weeks before Killua finally finds himself in front of a small restaurant with the company of an Exam navigator who gives him instructions on what he has to recite to prove himself as a worthy applicant. 

“I’d like to order the steak combo that opens your eyes to the light.”

Even saying the words aloud to the restaurant owner who looks completely serious, Killua feels foolish. The building smells of fresh meat, a few customers scattered around the room despite it being midday in between meal hours. From off to the side, he can sense the man observing him closely and he wonders if this is really the way to gain access to the Hunter Exam.

Finally, the chef asks, “How would you like it?”

“Um, grilled over a low flame, until cooked?” Killua replies, feeling more unsure by the minute.

This earns him a smile. “Got it. You can head over to the room at the back.”

He cautiously walks toward the designated room, a small closed-off area with a round table and three chairs. Taking a seat, he glances around and waits restlessly for… something. Something is supposed to happen in this room, he’s sure of it, but then five minutes pass, then ten, and he’s still stuck here having made no progress.

Frustrated, Killua stands up, ready to storm out of the room when he notices a switch on the wall by the door. Partially out of curiosity and partially because he has nothing else to lose, he presses the button, not really expecting anything to change. Almost immediately, the room shakes and he feels the entire structure descending as he grabs onto one of the chairs to stabilize himself.

_An elevator,_ he realizes. This place that is designed to look like a regular restaurant room is actually a hidden elevator.

Looking at the floor numbers changing on the displayed screen above him, Killua watches as it hits B-100 and stops. The room halts in its descent and the back doors open for him, revealing a large tunnel filled with people scattered everywhere that all turn their heads to look at him when he enters.

There is no more doubt in his mind: he has finally arrived at the Hunter Exam.

The atmosphere is tense, layers of unspoken competitive threats in the way the contestants look at one another with narrowed eyes. Killua can see them all analyzing their opponents, determining who is strong and who is weak and what they’ll have to do to ensure their win. He has walked into a battlefield where everyone is a predator, a hunter, a master of their own unique skills with a ruthless kind of willpower that challenges anybody who gets in their way.

It should be intimidating but Killua doesn’t care for any of that. The reason he’s here isn’t for the fame or the money or whatever other benefits that come with having a Hunter’s license—

The reason he’s here: to find _Gon_.

“Hello,” a voice speaks out to him. He blinks and looks down to see a short man coloured green, dressed in a suit with a hand extended. “Please take a number.”

Killua receives a circular badge, the number 99 printed on it.

“Be sure to wear this on your chest at all times and don’t lose it,” the man tells him before walking away to greet some other participants.

He does as he’s told, sticking the pin through his shirt with the number displayed outwards. Glancing around, he sees no sign of an examiner here yet and deduces that it’ll probably still be a while before the actual exam starts. With that, Killua makes a spot for himself against one of the tunnel walls, sits down, and waits.  
  
.

Four hundred applicants have made it so far, all of them restlessly anticipating the start of the Exam. Four hundred aspiring hunters gathered at the entrance of a long tunnel among their fellow competitors. 

Across the room, Killua’s gaze follows a boy dressed in green, fishing rod slung over his shoulder as he steps out of the elevator and into the waiting area with the other examinees. When their eyes meet, it’s like something erupts in the space between their bodies, flames and stardust bursting in open air; secrets passed to each other in the silence that hangs around them. Something soft and fluttery gathers in their palms, in their chests, a force that pulls them closer, closer, closer.

Something that feels a lot like hope.

A lot like love.

A lot like dreams.

Something that whispers, _He’s here. Take his hand. Hold on tight._

_And don’t let go._  
  
.

“I—I _found_ you,” Killua breathes out, eyes wide and skateboard tucked under his arms to remind him that this is real. This is very much reality. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you in person,” Gon grins at him, so familiar yet unknown at the same time, “Killua.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know there are a lot of flaws with this but let me know what you think!


End file.
